First thing's first. I am sorry that I am unapologetic. When I ask for your opinion, I truly wish to know your deepest desires and guilty obsessions. I am constantly overwhelmed by the foolish and the trivial barraging on my thoughts— threatening me, taunting me to give in. When I call for you to "figure this out" (right now, please) I am insecure with my feelings because I am aware that I shouldn't feel this way anymore. I am impatient, and brazenly so, that I don't just play with fire; I seem to intentionally harm myself so that the flames are sure to caress me with its singeing fingertips— and then I still do it again anyways. I become restless yet hopeful that my ragged and torn intuition will eventually guide me down the right path, but I still feel anxious about what happens next. When I say these wretched things to you, rambling and wreaking havoc, I surely must be "asking for it"— I know, I feel the same way too— because I prod, pick, scratch at all of the "little things" that really shouldn't matter. It makes perfect sense that I start to question myself and even my own self worth because I am still compelled to yell, argue, talk until my voice is so hoarse and so deep with residual emotion and with the final exaltation of resolution. Yet somehow, whenever I need/want (both are one and the same to me now) to speak, no one is willing to be sensitive. Instead, they say they are sorry but I know they are only being apologetic for me.